A beautiful, petite woman with high cheekbones, close-cropped hair and direct eyes, she was diagnosed with breast cancer at 38 in 2005.

The mother of three children — 17, 15 and 11 — she made it through 14 months of treatment and surgery and came out into remission.

“I put it in a box and stored it away,” Stabile said. “I said, ‘If it comes back, it comes back. I’m not going to worry about it.’”

Cancer brought her and her husband of 18 years, Paul, closer and it taught him something about the woman he loves so openly:

“I had unfairly characterized her as a delicate flower I had to protect. It turns out, she had the heart of a lion and fought like 10,000.

“My love and appreciation for her is much deeper.”

Then, in 2009, the box exploded: The cancer was back and had metastasized into her liver and bones.

“The second time, we knew this would end badly,” he said.

Treatment began again.

By late April this year, Lori was tired, Paul wrote on Lori’s CarePage. What began as email updates to friends and family five years ago has become his therapy, he says, and he shares it in doses laced with humor, directness, warmth and faith.

Lori was “tired of treatments that end up with her lying in a hospital bed away from her children, tired of putting undue stress on her family and friends, tired of being tired.”

Together, they made what Paul wrote was among “the hardest decisions we have had to make — but one we are confident is the right one: We have brought Lori home and have chosen to end active treatment.”

She has hospice care at home and, the day I visited, she was gratefully celebrating life.

“I realized what’s important and what’s not,” she said.

“I thank God for all the things we have in life. I have a wonderful family and a great support team. (With cancer) you gain a different perspective on life. You get little gifts all the time. I wish we weren’t dealing with cancer, but it could have been worse.” Doubters get a full list without hesitation.

A ‘little gift’

Among the “little gifts” is something Paul asked for on Lori’s CarePage:

“Now, for the one thing that you can do for me (and, in the end, you and Lori)!

“I don’t want anyone who knows (Lori) to have to say, “I wish I would have told her ____.”

“Knowing we have the benefit of knowing that time is short, I would ask you to please share your thoughts with Lori. Reply to this, send an email, send a regular letter ... something that she can see that speaks to a favorite memory, what you think about when you think of her, etc. Why wait until a wake or memorial service? Wouldn’t you really want the person to know before that time?

“By the way, I don’t think Tim McGraw had it all right: It’s not always, “Live like you were dying,” rather, “Die like you are LIVING” which is exactly what (she) is doing right now, living! So please, be sure to address her like she is!”

“I adore the memories,” Lori said.

“You don’t even know you’ve touched so many people in your life,” she added in a tone tinged with amazement. “The sharing is so important.”

Says Paul: “If you humble yourself to a process, you’re amazed at the beautiful things that come out of it. If you let go of the need to control, you open yourself to see the whole beautiful world. If you are so focused on the destination, you will miss the journey.”